


No

by hobbywriting



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Family, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 04:30:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5729587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbywriting/pseuds/hobbywriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not every day your vigilante best friend calls you up in the middle of the night with a huge headache and the inability to say any word but no. Luckily for Foggy, said best friend knows a whole team of people who've come across every weird case imaginable.  </p><p>Will Matt Murdock be happy being dragged to the avenger's tower in search of a cure? No.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No

“No!”

“For the love of-” Foggy yanks Matt the rest of the way to the reception desk. The girl behind the desk stares at them with wide eyes, phone halfway to her ear. “Just stand there. Don’t move!”

Matt grumbles, crossing his arms. The look on his face is definitely a pout.

“Hi,” Foggy turns to the receptionist. “Appointment with Tony Stark. Tell him DD is downstairs. We need to speak with someone from the avengers urgently.”

“I’ll just-” She taps the buttons on the phone. “Please take a seat.”

“No,” Matt says mournfully.

Foggy glances at him. “We’ll stand.”

***

“What’s wrong?” Captain America - Freaking Captain America - asks as soon as the elevator doors open. “Is he alright?”

Foggy prepared for more resistance as he guided Matt out of the elevator, but the man followed docilely. Finally. The jerk had fought him all the way here, digging his heels in like a petulant child.

Matt tilts his head in that weird way of his. His face crumbles into full on pout mode. “Noooo.”

Foggy looks around the floor. It’s all glass and metal, like something out of a science fiction movie. There’s a tang of antiseptic in the air that even he picks up. “Is this the-?”

“I sensed you and Mr Murdock were in some distress and took the liberty of sending you to the medical bay,” a British voice says, coming from nowhere. “I hope I didn’t misinterpret the situation.”

Matt doesn’t jump at the voice. Right. He’s probably been here before. He shakes his head mournfully, rubbing at his face. He looks pathetic right now. Expression all screwed up with pain.

“No,” Foggy says to the ceiling voice. “That’s about right.”

Matt whimpers, pulling his arm out of Foggy’s grip to cover his face with both hands. For the first time Foggy realises the cane is gone. It’s probably back in Matt’s apartment.

“We can have a full medical team here in under twenty minutes,” Captain America says, looking over Matt, clearly searching for injuries. “Daredevil, can you tell me where you’re hurt?”

“No,” Matt says without moving his hands.

“He’s not injured. I’ve checked. A couple of bruises. A cut or two. Some old injuries him and me are going to have some serious talks about later, but nothing new.”

Captain America looks at them like they’re crazy.

They must look crazy. Matt in his tracksuit bottoms, vest, no glasses on his face, bare feet, and hair all mussed up from where he’d tried to sleep off whatever this is before calling Foggy. Foggy in the mismatched suit he’d thrown on before rushing over to Matt’s.

Foggy takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. It’s like he’s going through some weird terrible twos or something. Claire had no clue. She said to go to the hospital but somebody-”

Matt lowers his hands from his face, and manages to glare vaguely in his direction. “No.”

Foggy gestures to Matt, rolling his eyes. “So we decided to come here.”

“No, no, no, no, no.” Matt shakes his head like a dog. Then freezes, wincing like the action hurt him.

“Okay buddy.” Foggy rubs Matt’s arm. Christ. Every muscle in the guy’s body is coiled like a spring. It might be his imagination, but it feels like the stubborn jerk relaxes marginally under his touch. “I decided we’d come here. Mr Talkative just used his new favourite word. Repeatedly. So I know this is weird, and most likely horribly rude turning up at your home at three in the morning, but could you please help him.”

“Of course,” Captain America says without hesitation. “Anytime. Really. He’s our friend too.”

“No?” Matt says, suddenly looking heartbreakingly shy.

***

“Do you like chocolate?” The guy with the bow - who’d introduced himself as Clint - asks.

“No.” There’s a half smile to Matt’s face, despite the pain etched there. He’s lying on a metal table, something that looks like a little stargate looped around his head. It seems to be scanning him.

“So you won’t mind if I have your share next time we have milk duds?”

Matt snarls.

“Stop antagonising the patient Barton,” Bruce says, staring at a screen by Matt’s head. Foggy isn’t sure where Bruce fits into this avengers team, but he seems a nice enough guy. A rumpled looking scientist who clearly cares about Matt. Foggy spotted the way he patted Matt’s shoulder after positioning him on the table.

Clint pulls a face at Matt, but for all their teasing, Clint still hasn’t let go of Matt’s hand.

There’s an ache in Foggy’s chest when he realises Matt’s circle of friends has spread beyond Karen and himself. It’s part jealousy, part relief.

“How’s our Mr Magoo Brucie?” Tony Stark swans into the room, heading straight for the screen. He takes a sip from a coffee mug with iron man’s face on it, then hands it to Bruce.

Bruce downs half of it, then gives it back. “No sign of damage.”

“So not a stroke then.”

“Not a stroke. I’ve sent all the scans to Doctor Hun to be see if she can see anything. This isn’t my field.”

“You’re doing fine,” Clint says. “Isn’t he doing a great job Murdock?”

“No,” Matt says, nodding his head.

Clint bursts into giggles like a five year old.

“You can sit up now Matt,” Bruce says, waving his hand over the screen and fiddling with the data.

The movement causes Matt to screw up his face. One hand reaches up to clutch at his head. He whines. Honest to God whines like a hurt puppy.

“Oh Matty.”

The moment Matt is sitting upright on the table, Clint hops up, sitting cross legged in front of him. Foggy takes the seat Clint left, reaching up to give Matt’s fingers a quick squeeze.

“Let’s try Bruce’s question again,” Clint says. Grabbing Matt’s hands, he presses them palm to palm with his like they’re about to play patacake. “What’s the pain. One to ten.” He flickers the fingers left to right.

Matt shakes his head. “No.”

“Come on buddy.” Clint flickers the fingers left to right again. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Give me an answer.”

Matt huffs, but pushes on Clint’s fourth finger from the left..

Foggy feels something break inside him. He takes a shaky breath. Up until now he hadn’t been sure his Matt was still around. “Nice to know you’re still in there Matty.”

“Pain’s a six,” Clint calls out to Bruce who makes a note of it on the screen.

“No.”

Clint rolls his eyes. “Don’t give me that. You always underestimate.”

A woman with fiery red hair pushes through the glass door. “Got it doc.” She holds out a bundle of paper and plastic to the rumpled looking Bruce.

He takes it, shaking his head. “How many times do I have to tell you people, I’m not a real doctor.”

“Yeah,” Foggy says when Bruce unwraps the biggest needle in the world. “About that…”

“It’s fine Foggy.” The red headed woman - Black Widow - says, placing a hand on his shoulder. She manages to be both comforting and terrifying. And she knows his name. How does she know his name? “Bruce is capable of taking a little blood.”

Matty pales, unfocused eyes darting around the room before looking over his left shoulder where Bruce is placing empty vials. “No.”

Black Widow - he can’t believe he’s in the same room as Black Widow - punches Matt on the arm. “Take it like a woman you big baby.”

“Boring, boring,” Tony Stark says, finally looking up from his phone. “All of you are boring. I’m going to see what’s taking Steve so long.”

From the quick way he scurries out of the room, Foggy thinks someone might have a problem with needles.

Black Widow takes something from Bruce, tying it around Matt’s arm. She flicks the inside of his elbow. “Got one for you.”

Matt’s eyes look in his direction.

Foggy sighs, taking the hand not about to be subjected to needles. “Can’t help you buddy. We need to fix this. Can’t imagine the jury will take it well if your next closing speech is no, no, no.”

Matt ducks his head. “No,’ he mumbles.

Clint leans forward, squeezing Matt’s shoulders with a tight grin. “D, I love you bro, but I’m going to be across the room for this.”

Matt keeps his chin tucked to his chest. When the needle goes in he squeezes Foggy’s hand so hard the bones grind together.

***

They eat pizza as Bruce reads out the results.

It’s nearly five in the morning. The adrenaline is worn off and Foggy’s starting to feel a little hazy around the edges. Matt sits on the sofa between him and Clint. His knees are drawn up to his chest and he refuses to eat any of the pizza Clint offers him, even when the man starts making air plane noises.

Foggy keeps an arm wrapped around his friend’s back. From the way Matty leans into him it’s clear his head still hurts.

Clint’s mouth drops open giving a horrible view of partially chewed pizza. “You’re kidding me!”

Natasha - he’d finally learnt her name - smacks him over the back of the head. Foggy’s looking right at them, and he’s still not sure how they manage to share one sofa cushion. “Don’t be disgusting Barton.”

Clint swallows, grey eyes wide. “But it’s - he’s - how?”

Foggy raises the hand not wrapped around Matt. “I have no idea what’s going on here.”

“It’s a chemical,” Bruce explains from his armchair. “It-”

“Makes you tell the truth. A lot of it. Everything that’s on your mind-” Tony perches on the arm of the chair Bruce is in, staring at the screen in the rumpled not-a-real-doctor’s hands.

“A lot like Tony here.” Bruce says, dodging the swipe aimed at his head.

Steve sits in the other armchair. “Clint was captured for a short while in a recent mission. They injected him before we could get him out.”

“I got myself out actually,” Clint says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Then he hugged Steve and told him he’d had a crush on him forever,” Bruce says, still huddled over the tablet.

“Pft.” Tony makes a dismissing motion with his hand. “That’s not news, everyone has a crush on Captain America.”

A very good point. And also, Captain America turns a fascinating shade of red when he’s embarrassed. His ears practically glow.

Clint leans back on the sofa looking pleased with himself. “I told everyone I had a crush on them.”

Natasha gives his arm a slow sarcastic pat. “Yes you did.”

“Not me!” Tony glares at Clint. “How can you have a crush on everyone but me? That’s just wrong. You even have a crush on him!”

Foggy doesn’t think he’s ever heard someone sound so offended. He nudges Matt who’s tracking the conversation with half closed eyes. “He’s pointing at you right now bud. The Hawkeye has a crush on you.”

Matt grumbles and buries his head in Foggy’s side.

Steve watches Matt seriously. “This doesn’t explain why he’s not talking.”

“Actually I think it does,” Bruce looks up from his tablet. “Daredevil mentioned once that he meditated. That should give him more self control than most.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is masochism,” Foggy says.

Matt mumbles a word into Foggy’s side he bets is ‘no.’

Natasha leans forward, squishing Clint into Matt’s side. “He’s using the word no to clamp down on the impulse to say something.”

“Aw buddy,” Clint pokes the side of Matt’s head. “I wanna hear you spill the contents of that wonderful mind of yours. I bet you have a crush on me too. Is that why you’re not talking? I won’t be embarrassed.”

“Based on all the things you said I doubt you have the capacity for embarrassment.” Bruce gives Clint the kind of smile you give a kid you’re fond of, even if you kind of want to hit them on the head.

Clint stops poking Matt to glare at Bruce. “You’re all a bunch of prudes.”

“Birdbrain I’m the last person anyone would call a prude and some of the things you wanted to do to freckles here made me blush.” Tony claps a hand on Bruce’s shoulder.

Bruce knocks it off. “I thought we agreed never to talk about that again?”

“Team!” Steve says in his Captain America voice. It makes Foggy want to stand at attention. “How does this help Daredevil?”

“Yeah,” Foggy looks down at Matt. The guy is shaking. He tightens his grip over him, running a hand through his hair. “How do we fix this?”

Clint reaches toward Matt again. Foggy’s about to bat his hands away, thinking he’s going to try poking the poor guy again. Instead he rests a hand on the skin above the collar of his t-shirt. “Pain’s a eight.”

Matt doesn’t argue. From the quivering mess under his arms Foggy isn’t even sure he’s still listening.

Bruce sighs. “It’s only going to keep rising. Unless-”

“Unless?” Tony prompts.

“Unless he starts talking.” Natasha looks at the curled up ball of Matt with steely eyes. “You hear that Daredevil you need to start talking.”

Steve bends forward in his armchair, elbows on knees. “It took Hawkeye 48 hours for the effects to wear off. Daredevil can’t last that long.”

“If he tries, I’m not sure what damage that might do.” Bruce sets the tablet down on his lap.

Matt isn’t going to like that one bit. “Couldn’t he spill his guts to himself?” Foggy asks. “Y’know, in an empty room?”

“Sorry. Not going to work.” Clint rubs soothing patterns on Matt’s back. For all his humour he looks worried. “The drug creates the compulsion to tell people things. No people and it drives you to seek someone out. Seriously, these guys got so annoyed they tried to lock me away.”

“He broke out with a paper-clip-” Natasha says.

“And then broke in while I was in the shower,” Tony picks up the story.

“Big deal.” Clint actually seems pretty good at back massages. Foggy bets Matt would enjoy it if he weren’t a tense ball of pain right now. “Everyone’s seen you naked Tony.”

“With Pepper,” Tony growls.

“Not talking about this again.” Bruce gets to his feet, shooing Tony off the arm of the couch. “Foggy, contact Jarvis if you need any help. Clint will stay until Daredevil starts talking, then please kick him out. He needs as much privacy as we can give him.”

Bruce ushers Tony out of the room. Steve follows after giving Foggy a reassuring smile. Natasha leans over Clint to brush the hair away from Matt’s sweaty face, then leaves.

Foggy blinks at Hawkeye. The Hawkeye, who looks back at him expectantly. “Why do you get to stay?”

“Because I’m awesome at annoying the heck out of people.” He smiles like it’s something to be proud of.

Foggy pulls Matt into a tighter hug. Every one of his friend’s muscles seems to scream with tension under his hands. “I don’t think Matt needs that right now.”

Clint snorts. “Shows what you know. Matt… Hey bro. You in there?”

Matt keeps his head buried in Foggy’s side. His hands grip Foggy’s shirt so tight he’s sure he’s lost at least one button by now.

Clint leans in close, placing his head next to Matt’s. “Come on buddy talk to me. It’s just me, you, and Foggy here. If you don’t start talking that headache’s going to get worse. Don’t make me tell Foggy embarrassing stories about you.”

“N-n-ooo,” Matt mutters.

“Come on. Tell me how much you love me. Tell me how much my dog stinks. Let’s get that verbal diarrhoea flowing.”

Matt pulls away from Foggy’s side enough to make out his face. His hair is drenched with sweat. He whines. It sounds pained.

Clint straightens up. “Your choice. So Foggy, me and Matty went out parkouring, right. Then we came across this cat that’d gotten stuck on an air vent on the fourth story of this block of flats. Don’t ask me how-”

“You stink of garlic pizza,” Matt says, the words coming out in a rush. “And terrible coffee, and that dog who does smell terrible. Seriously Clint stop feeding him pizza. It gives him gas. So much gas. And you need to wash your hands more. You touch everything. It’s kinda gross.”

“There we go.” Clint grabs Matt in a tight hug. “Head better?”

“So much better. Only you made me talk. I don’t want to talk. How long is this going to last again?”

“About two days. Have fun.” Clint walks backwards out the room. “Don’t let him clam up again. Speak to Jarvis if you want anything. Water, food, someone to take over. Anything.”

“Two days?” Matt straightens up, turning to the door but Clint is gone. He turns back to Foggy with his mouth set in a thin line. “Two days.”

“Yup buddy.” Foggy pats Matt on the shoulder. “Let’s try and think of something to talk about that won’t have you avoiding me for a month once this is over. How about why the whole avengers team is calling me Foggy.”

“I talk about you all the time. Well-” Matt tilts his head. “All the time since they found out who I was. I know so much about them, and you’re my family. People talk about family with co-workers, don’t they? That’s a normal thing to do?”

“Sure.” Foggy considers a moment. “But I think these avengers are more friends than co-workers. They really seem to like you Matty.”

Matt blushes, turning his sightless gaze to the couch cushion underneath his crossed legs. “You think?”

Of course Matty wouldn’t think anyone liked him without being told in explicit terms. “Trust me Matty. You have a friend in every single one of those guys. Though none is as brilliant a friend as me.”

“No no Foggy,” Matt trips over his words, expression contrite. “You are my best friend. The bestest. The bestest bestest.”

“The bestest bestest? I think whatever dosed you is making you loopy my bestest bestest friend.”

***

It’s a long two days. Matt’s speech speeds up throughout the first day. Even trying to steer him towards innocuous topics, Foggy learns way too much about his friend. Most cute and fluffy. Some odd. Too much desperately sad.

The second day Natasha takes a shift so Foggy can sleep. Matt doesn’t sleep. All he does is talk, which turns more and more into a croak as time passes.

As the second day turns into night, the silences between rasped words becomes longer. Foggy ends up sprawled across one of Tony Stark’s too expensive beds. Matt curled in an impossibly small ball for a man his size. One hand is fisted in Foggy’s t-shirt. Matt’s head is tucked under his chin. ‘I want a hug Foggy. I always always want your hugs.’

Foggy runs a hand over his friend’s hair. ‘You did it once when I was sick. No one ever did that, not even dad. I didn’t know how to ask for it again.’ And thinks of what he’s going to do now.

First he’ll get some of Matt’s favourite ice cream to soothe his sore throat. Then he’ll look up that asshole who tried to spike Matt’s drink in college. ‘Don’t be scared Foggy. I smelled it in time. I didn’t drink it. I reported him, but I didn’t have any proof. My fault. I should’ve saved the drink instead of throwing it away.’ Those assholes who bullied Matt. So many assholes who bullied Matt. ‘They said they’d suspend me if I got caught fighting again, so I didn’t fight, not even when he broke my hand.’

Stick. Foggy would gleefully murder that guy for what he did to his friend. Torturing him when he was a kid, and brainwashing him into thinking it was for his own good.

“You are so messed up. It’s a good thing you have so many people looking out for you buddy.” Matt softly breathes against Foggy’s chest, having finally drifted to sleep an hour ago. He tightens his arms around his friend. “And we’re so lucky to have you.


End file.
